“Then it is time for us to enter the stronghold.”
I take her hand because I like the feel of it in mine, and we walk the paved road which winds up the hill to where the stronghold sits. The massive wooden doors are bound by iron to keep out the Faerie, and an enormous knocker, made from copper, squats on the door, its presence radiating evil.
“What do we do?” Kaitlyn asks as we stand in front of the doors. “How do we get in?”
“We knock.”
She stares at the knocker. I don’t move.
“Do you want to knock or should I?” she asks.
“It is enchanted,” I explain carefully. “It takes on the form you dislike the most, to make it hard for you to ask the stronghold for assistance.”
“That explains a lot,” Kaitlyn says.
I glare at the writhing knocker. Knowing it is not real doesn’t make touching it any easier.
But then my mate steps forward, grasps the thing, lifting it and slamming it down again and again until she is breathing hard.
“Like that?” she asks, turning to me and swiping the back of her hand over her forehead.
“Yes, like that.” I narrow my eyes. “What did it look like to you?”
“Lord Guyzance’s face,” she snarls.
The massive door creaks on its hinges and swings open, a warm breeze escaping to blow in our faces and ripple at my wings.
Kaitlyn looks at me, and I stride forward, her hand still in mine, through the gap and into the stronghold. Behind us the door slams shut.
We are inside. There’s no going back now.
Kaitlyn gazes around at the high gatehouse archway and into the wide square courtyard beyond.
“What next?”
“We wait. They will come to us.”
“Who?”
“The brothers of the stronghold.”
“This is a monastery? I didn’t think the Yeavering had any such thing,” Kaitlyn says, confusion running over her face.
“A mon-es-tary?” I repeat. “I don’t know what that is.”
I’m pleased her hand is in mine because I dislike our present situation a lot. A door opens on the other side of the courtyard, and three cowled brothers step through. Their long brown robes hardly move as they advance on us.
“See!” Kaitlyn says with an excitement I couldn’t muster even if I wanted to. “Monks!”
“Linton.” The lead brother stops in front of us and pulls his cowl back to reveal himself. Kaitlyn clutches at my hand and backs into me. “The assassin has come to repent.”
“I have come, with my Kaitlyn, for sanctuary from the Faerie known as Tam Lin,” I say with a snarl.
“If you seek sanctuary, you know the price,” he intones. “And it must be paid.”
KAITLYN
Linton glares at the creature opposite him. It’s, for want of a better description, a living skeleton. The only life in the skull face are two pinpricks of blue which flicker in the eye sockets. But it speaks and moves as if all the flesh, muscle, and sinew were still attached to the body.
